


The Great Stim War of 1913

by spitecentral



Series: April Autism Acceptance Fics [5]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Autism, Autism Acceptance Month 2018, Autistic Edward Elric, Autistic Roy Mustang, Gen, Humor, Meltdown, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Miscommunication, Stimming, Written by an Autistic Author, no editing we die like hughes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 22:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14412255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spitecentral/pseuds/spitecentral
Summary: Roy Mustang and Edward Elric have conflicting stims. Instead of talking this out like responsible people, they start a war. Predictably, it blows up in their faces.





	The Great Stim War of 1913

**Author's Note:**

> Not gonna lie this fic was written like, 90% out of spite. You see, currently, the only other fic in the 'autism' tag in the FMA fandom (and, as far as I can tell, the only fic in the entire fandom with autistic characters) is a Royed 'Autism AU' featuring sexual/physical child abuse, and uhm... look, I haven't read it, and it does say the Royed is one-sided, so maybe the actual pedophilia and abuse in it is appropriately handled, but when you actively label something as an 'Autism AU' I can 100% guarantee you that it's ableist, and that doesn't give me much confidence, y'know? I'm sure the author is just ignorant and not malicious, and probably still pretty young (lord knows that I've written some ableist shit when I was younger), but it bugs the fucking shit out of me and I want to retaliate in any way I can. So hence me writing an autism fic to thin out the ableism pool a bit.
> 
> (Also, mandatory disclaimer: do not harrass the author of said fic. Like I said, they're probably young and ignorant, and even if they aren't, arguing or even bullying isn't going to do much good. Yes, the fic is horrendous but just... don't be a dick, 'kay?)
> 
> The other 10% was written when I saw a lovely set of autistic!Roy headcanons by witchlightsands over on tumblr while scrolling the autistic headcanon tag to get some motivation up for this series. I ended up not nearly using all of them (in fact, I think only one made it in?) but it's still some top tier headcanons and you should read them: http://witchlightsands.tumblr.com/post/172846442210/ur-gonna-take-my-autistic-roy-mustang-headcanons
> 
> Also, this fic is probably fucking awful since I didn't edit this and I'm tired as shit and I haven't watched/read FMA in like a gazillion years and I'm 100% sure I completely fucked up Roy's POV but you know what? I don't care. I loved writing it and I hope you like reading it! 
> 
> So after this monster of an author's note (I'm so sorry for never shutting the fuck up), onwards!
> 
> EDIT: aaaand it just occurred to me that 'citronella' might be called something different in English (it isn't my first language) and apparently a more common name is lemongrass, but citronella is still also a name, so I'm not editing it bc I'm a Tired Dumbass, so deal with it.

The crack of the pencil echoed through the room, making Ed pause.

“Fullmetal,” Roy said through gritted teeth, “stop bouncing your leg.”

Ed looked at him. 

Smirked. 

And bounced his leg.

“Stop bouncing your leg or I _will_ court-martial you.”

“You can’t fucking do that!”

“Watch me.”

Ed huffed, but stopped bouncing his leg, adjusting his seat as he read through the report. Roy sighed in relief and went back to his own work. 

Until he heard the squeaking.

“Fullmetal!”

Ed looked up, giving him an innocent smile with a wicked gleam in his eye. “I’m not bouncing my leg.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not. It’s my automail.”

“Your automail is one of your legs!”

“Winry says its hers, and besides, doesn’t the military require you submit a record of any personal possessions? I never submitted anything, so legally, it isn’t my leg. Therefore, I can bounce it.”

And yes, damnit, Ed was right. Technically. And the military also stated that no personnel may be deprived of any assistive technology that could work to counteract their disability, as the little shit no doubt knew. So Roy had no choice but to grit his teeth as his subordinate smiled smugly and bounced. 

“Could you at least oil it?” he finally managed, after half an hour of squeaking.

“Nah.” Squeak. Bounce. Squeak. Bounce.

Roy stood up. “I’ll be doing the rest of my paperwork in the park. It’s a nice day.”

Riza raised an eyebrow at him, slightly amused, and Ed’s laughter followed him out of the office.

///

A week, an explosive mission, and a truckload more paperwork later, Edward was back in his office, this time to give his mission report. As soon as Ed stepped foot in it, however, he abruptly doubled over. 

“What the fuck is that?” he grunted, desperately pressing a hand against his nose. This time, it was Roy’s turn to smirk.

“Oh, you mean these lovely citronella plants?” he answered, gesturing towards the many plants placed around the office. “I installed them because I thought the office was getting a bit stuffy. I’ve always loved the smell of citrus, you know.”

The citronella scent wafted through the room, strong and sharp and tangy, exactly as Roy liked it. He wasn’t lying to Fullmetal. The smell of old, musty paper always seemed to drain him from his energy, making him even less likely to pick up a pen and actually do his paperwork. And if Edward was going to insist on squeaking and bouncing his leg, he needed something to help him stay concentrated. Since he’d placed a citronella plant on his desk (as well as everywhere else in the office), he’d been remarkably more productive, even if Hawkeye regularly had to pull his nose out of the leaves. 

That it was irritating Fullmetal was just a bonus.

Ed shot him a death glare and stormed out of the office without another word.

“Don’t forget to mail me your report!” Roy cheerfully yelled after him, rubbing a citronella stalk between his fingers.

///

The next day, Ed came into the office, breathing only through his mouth, claiming to have ‘lost’ his mission report, and rewrote it all right then and there, clicking his pen as noisily as possible. Roy had to storm out and burn some bushes in order to avoid setting Ed’s coat on fire.

When he came back, he paced through the room, right past Fullmetal’s chair, repeating the key information from his recent case to himself, over and over, loud enough to drown out Ed’s pen clicks. He kept doing it even after Ed finally ran off, hissing and cursing, simply because it felt good. 

It was... actually really, really good. He vaguely remembered studying for his tests the same way as a kid, until he became aware that it wasn’t normal and made himself stop. The repetitive motions were soothing, and soon enough, he could sit back behind his desk to pick up another case. 

Immediately, he felt his energy drain. The paperwork pile was enormous, and although it would probably go faster if he did it with the same method, but one look at the rest of his subordinates made it clear that that would not be appreciated. So, with a sigh, he picked up the first pile of laws. 

His mind was lost before the third sentence.

///

Popcorn was Ed’s revenge. 

He was eating them one by one, savoring the cracking and the crunching and driving Roy absolutely insane. He was looking him right in the eye was he did it. 

“You’re not allowed to snack in the offices.”

“It’s my lunch.”

“Popcorn isn’t lunch!”

“It’s my lunch, and I’m legally allowed to a lunch, so there.”

Five more minutes of chewed popcorn, and Roy was out the door. Ten minutes later, he was back with fresh onion bread with extra garlic on top. He used to get that as a treat, but he stopped when the other kids in the orphanage complained about the smell. He could eat it for hours, he remembered, savoring the buttery taste of the bread and the sharp taste of onion and garlic, unbothered by the (admittedly ungodly) odor.

He took a seat next to Fullmetal, and bit. 

Edward pressed his nose closed. “Do you have to do that here?”

“I can have my lunch wherever I want, Fullmetal.” And he bit again, repressing a smug grin as Edward cringed.

It took three minutes to drive him out of the office, and seven more minutes to finish his bread. 

He’d forgotten how nice onion bread tasted.

///

It continued like this for a while. Ed would attack, Roy would launch an assault to counter it, and the cycle repeated itself. What made this different from all their other office wars was the fact that, while they were definitely trying to annoy each other, they were mostly just enjoying themselves. In trying to find different ways to defeat Fullmetal, Roy found a lot of his childhood habits and delights, which he’d repressed as he grew up, actually did still help him, and he still enjoyed them.

It only occurred to him that he might have taken things a little to far when Ed had a meltdown.

He still didn’t know precisely what had triggered it. Or, actually, that was a lie: he knew it had been triggered by the newly installed green light bulbs, but he didn’t know why this, of all things, had been the tipping point. All he knew was that Fullmetal was now yelling and cussing and screaming and throwing stuff around the room, and all he could do was wait it out. So he did. Behind a desk, of course.

When he could finally hear the screams quiet down and the rain of pencils stopped, he slowly crawled out from under his hiding space. 

“Fullmetal?” he whispered.

Ed was lying curled up into a ball, but still managed to glare at him. 

“I’m just... going to unplug the lights.”

Ed said nothing. His silence was unnerving, especially since he was usually so loud. But Roy took his quiet as agreement and climbed unto the desks to unscrew the lights. 

When the green light disappeared to be replaced with the natural sunlight from outside, he could see Ed physically relax, even though he still stayed curled up in his little ball. 

Quietly, he sat down next to him. Their silence stretched until Ed finally stood up and walked out of the room, not even slamming the door behind him.

Roy leaned back against the cool wall and let the citrus smell wash over him.

Maybe a tiny bit too far.

///

The next day, the plants were gone, and the windows were open to mask any lingering smell. 

When Ed came in, he seemed ashamed and angry, stomping through the office while avoiding everyone’s eyes. As he sat down to bounce his automail leg, he stopped and sniffed the air. Roy could just see Ed’s eyes widen in surprise before he ducked his head to pretend he was working.

Ed’s leg squeaked, and he grimaced. When he reached out to the citronella on his desk, he realized to late that there was nothing, and grabbed only air.

He didn’t finish a single report that day.

///

The peace - tense, awkward, excruciating, but still peace - continued for a week, until Fullmetal plopped into the chair in front of Roy’s desk after hours. Roy blinked. 

“Is everything alright, Fullmetal?”

Ed sniffed and leaned backwards in his chair, avoiding Roy’s eyes. He was bouncing his leg again, but he didn’t seem to realize it, and it took all of Roy’s self control not to say anything, but he managed.

“Let’s stop avoiding the elephant in the room, bastard,” he said, with a bite in his voice would have been a lot more convincing if he didn’t seem so nervous. “Why did you throw the plants out?”

Roy scraped his throat. “They were bothering you.”

“You _knew_ that. It’s the reason you bought them in the first place!” 

Roy shot him an irritated look. “No, I bought them because I like their smell and I find that it helps me concentrate. I’ll admit that I was also pleased to have a way of getting back at you after you deliberately annoyed me with your leg bouncing, but I primarily bought them because I found them beneficial to me.”

That only caused Ed’s leg to bounce faster. “Then why the fuck are they gone now?”

“Because you obviously had some sort of meltdown because of them, and contrary to your belief, I don’t actually want to cause my subordinates pain.”

Ed finally looked at him. He seemed... confused. “So, for the record, you actually used them to help yourself, not to annoy me?”

“Yes.”

“And when you were pacing and reading text out loud you were also only doing it to help yourself?”

“Mostly, yes, but I also wanted to drown out the sound of your pen.”

“And, uhm,” he pointed at his bouncing leg. “When you were nagging at me to stop bouncing, was there any reason?”

“It annoyed me, of course.”

“Yes, but how badly?”

Roy dug his nails into the wood of his desk. “Why the questions, Fullmetal?”

“I’m trying to figure out if you’re just some asshole who can deal with it or actually bothered by it.”

Roy felt a flash of annoyance. “I wouldn’t say that I was bothered by it if I wasn’t.”

Edward leaned forward, thoughtful, and stopped bouncing his leg. Roy let out a sigh of relief.

“Alright,” Ed stood up abruptly. “Fine. By the way, have you ever heard of autism?”

Roy raised an eyebrow. “Of course.”

“You might wanna look into it.”

And with that, he was out of the door.

///

The next morning, Ed slammed a plant down on his desk. Roy blinked.

“I thought you hated these,” he said, rubbing a citronella leaf between his fingers and inhaling the scent.

Ed glared at him. “I do, asshole, but you like them, and as long as it’s one small plant, I shouldn’t be able to smell it.”

Then, without saying a word, he stomped back to his desk. Roy just stared at him, before turning to his work and bracing himself for the sound of squeaking automail.

It never came. 

When he looked up, he saw Ed swinging his flesh leg instead, soundlessly. When he stared at it too long, he got that same, anxious feeling again, but without the sound, he could simply avoid it. It was a decent compromise.

He buried his nose in the smell of citrus, and the documents suddenly seemed a lot easier.

**Author's Note:**

> Also FYI, kiddos, if you have conflicting stims, just fucking talk it out. Adjust your behaviour to the other person's needs, while still trying to satisfy your own; aka, do what Ed did and replace your stims with different, similar stims that'll bug the person less. Don't be like these giant toddlers. 
> 
> Oh and while we're at it, yes I'm aware that 'autism' wasn't really a concept in the 1900's for people like Ed and Roy, who are verbal and capable of living alone without a caretaker, but if Arakawa can get away with inserting steam punk limbs and magic into WWI era Germany I can get away with inserting advanced psychological knowledge into it. Edward is diagnosed and has been diagnosed since he was a kid, and Roy is undiagnosed and a walking, talking disaster. Save them.


End file.
